Mary E. Durham Poems

I have not mingled with the rich,
Nor kissed a "royal" hand,
Nor lived in splendid grandeur
In this, my native land.
...

Out of the mist she appeared in October,
Where the avenue crosses the street;
A stunning figure in black attire,
Attractive, vivacious, petite.
...

In the dusky shades of twilight
As my fingers touch the strings,
Comes a little bird to listen -
Listen till I'm done, then sings.
...